Anne Boleyn Again

And So She Ran Away

Anne Boleyn blankly stared for a good hour at the torchlit gardens. There were roses. French cut and grown roses. They had been meant for her. And then that plain, plain Jane girl had to interfere. She turned her gaze from the gardens to the stable beyond. She knew that her horse was there, being prepared for Jane Seymour when she became Queen.

She smiled to herself as an idea dawned and she quickly changed from her elegant ball gown to a simple tunic and trousers. She grabbed a cap hanging on the back of the chair and donned it. Then, walking quickly and quietly with her head down, she walked out of the gates, through the garden, and to the stables.

"Where is the stable lad?" She asked in a fake, deepened voice. "My Lord, what of the festivities? You don't wish to stay with thee?" A young boy asks, hurrying out of a small room at the end of the stables.

"Why would I? I must return home to my darling sick wife." Anne replied.

"Of course my lord, I shall prepare a horse for you immediately." He said, hurriedly.

The stable boy quickly walked over to a fine, chestnut stallion and saddled it deftly. "My Lord, do you require an escort?" He asked, walking the horse towards the lady in disguise.

"No, thank you. I am a strong man, I can fend for myself. Do not tell anyone I have gone, the court needn't know that I returned to my wife. They would scorn such love, likewise." Anne said in that false voice of hers.

The boy nodded and quietly opened the gate. She mounted her horse and ordered it forward. "Thank you, good lad." She whispered and dropped a silver coin into his grimy palm. "My Lord!" He cried, shocked at the kindness and valuableness extended towards him. He looked up, but the false man was already gone, galloping away into the night.